


Uncertainty

by Decaykid



Category: Marvel, Wolverines (Comics)
Genre: Blood, Body Horror, Gen, Nightmares, just mentions of these things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-06
Updated: 2015-12-06
Packaged: 2018-05-05 06:16:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5364572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Decaykid/pseuds/Decaykid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Daken. I know we have our differences. I know our relationship is estranged. I know you don't like me and may never accept me as family, but... to me, you are family. And we just lost Logan. And I need you to get better. I don't want to loose you too."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Uncertainty

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I never read Wolverines. Not that it matters much, as I would've ignored it anyways to write whatever the hell I want. :3

Jovial sounds from the others echo down the hall as Laura leaves them. Everyone's on an adrenaline high from the mission. Despite whatever shaken alliance the ragtag group has wit one another, Laura would like to stay and partake in the momentary happiness with them, however she has something else on her mind. Or rather, some _one_. As she nears the end of the hall, the atmosphere seems to grow more somber as if the air itself has absorbed and become heavy with the waves of depression being emitted from the room. For a moment she hesitates, hand poised just above the door, then thinks of Logan, and countless opportunities. She thinks of his regrets, and her own. No. Now's not the time to be shy. Not when a;; they have is each other.

"Daken?" She asks, not waiting for a reply as she opens the door. She knows if it were up to him, he'd not allow visitors, but she likes to let him know she's entering the room beforehand. Not that it makes much of a difference. The room is dark, like it always is. She had tried turning them one once. He'd pitched an ugly fit, which self half expected, half welcomed. About half way through his rampage, he'd let out a terrible sob and started crying. That scared Laura enough to quickly turn them back off again, and she hasn't touched them since.

"Hey.: She greets, moving into the room and allowing the door to close behind her. She knows to avoid the coffee table. She knows Daken is laying on the couch, partially curled into the fetal position- mostly because he can't stretch his legs out, she thinks- and that his back is to the door.

"We've returned." She informs unnecessarily. She knows he knows this, she wouldn't be here otherwise. But she feels the need to fill this silence, hopes that the sound of her voice can maybe drown out whatever is going on in his head, if only for a moment. She crouches on the floor in front of the couch, on the end where his head sets on the armrest. She places her palm flat between his shoulders, then gives a gentle stroke down his back, then up and back down again, in a long continuous motion.

"You didn't miss much. Lots of chasing, little blood spilled. You would've hated it."

Sometimes she feels as though she's talking to a brick wall. He never stirs when she comes in. He doesn't react to her words, he neither brushes off nor leans into her touch. It's frustrating, she thinks, but he refuses to give in simply because he's being stubborn. Logan may of stopped trying to reach out to him, but she's not about to.

"I... had another dream last night. About him. He was... standing there. And I was running and running, trying o catch up to him. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't. That's when I noticed the blood. It kept making me slip. The blood continued growing and growing. I was still trying to get to him, but I couldn't. There was too much blood. I thought, I thought that it was my blood. But it was his."

She sighs. She thought for sure he'd react to that, even if it was laughing at her for being so silly, so obvious. She knows dreams are the brain processing information that it's taken in, or trying to working something out. Sometimes she can discern what her brain is mulling over. She knows she misses Logan. She knows she's unsure of the future. She knows she spent all that time trying to find family, and now it's quickly dwindling down. She knows she's scared to be alone. Her hand stops at his lower back.

"Daken. I know we have our differences. I know our relationship is estranged. I know you don't like me and may never accept me as family, but... to me, you are family. And we just lost Logan. And I need you to get better. I don't want to loose you too." Her voice wavers at the end and she sniffs hard. Oh. This is new.

Regardless of if her confessions fall on deaf ears, it helps her to say these things aloud. And even if Daken hears her, without really listening, she knows these things affect him to some degree. He knows what she's going through, even if he experiences it or looks at it differently. Even if he feels he doesn't need that kind of comfort, Laura does. The comfort in common ground, because despite their differences, Laura believes they are alike in all the ways that counts. She lets her hand fall into her lap, where it settles over the other.

"That is all for now. I will let you rest."

She waits just a moment, for the just-in-case, before standing and moving back through the dark towards the door. As it slides open and she steps back into the embracing light of the hallway, she can't help but feel dissatisfied. Despite this, she knows she'll be back tomorrow.

~*~

"Daken?"

She knocks. The door opens. She steps into the darkness. She avoids the coffee table. She notices the glass of water. Someone else came to visit. The newly reformed Sabretooth maybe, or perhaps Mystique? She crouches before the couch, places her hand palm down between his shoulders, gently moves her hand down his back, up and down again.

"We're still looking, Daken. Mr. Sinister isn't going to get away. He may of for now, but we will catch up to him. The consequences will catch up to him."

She pauses like she always does before moving on, either for a response or to let him process her words she doesn't know. Maybe it's to make it feel more like a conversation and less like her blabbing.

"I wish they would leave us alone. We're always being hunted., like animals. Caged, like animals. Experimented on, like animals. Pitted against one another, like animals. Then they get mad when we act like animals."

Another pause.

"You never considered yourself an animal. You embraced the dark, feral part. Refined it, used it as a weapon. You are good with that, turning things into a weapon. Maybe that's why Logan felt uneasy about you. He never felt he could control that side of him, always tried to lock it up. You integrated it. Maybe he envied you."

She sighs.

"I know you think, many people think, Logan and I were close. We weren't, not really. I know a lot about him, from the files in the Institute. The rest I learned from observation. I think... that is what you were always trying to warn me about, when you'd say he, the others, are fake, that they're two faced. That they just wanted to use me. I think I understand now."

She thinks of X-Force, of Avengers Academy and the Arena. She also thinks of the displaced X-Men she's spent time with recently.

"But I think you are misinformed. while I don't believe they are using me," memories of Finesse surface with a bitter sting, "I don't feel they really understand. There's always a wall there. I thought that once I took my walls down, those around me would become more receptive, more accepting. But I have learned that even though I take my walls down, others will put a wall up between myself and them."

She frowns to herself.

"People are confusing and frustrating and I do not know how you know them well enough to manipulate them."

She waits, though he offers up no secrets.

"I had another dream last night. It was different this time. It wasn't about Logan, but about you. I dreamed we were in Madripoor, in the Facility. I was going though the halls, fighting those experiments that were children, when I heard screaming. I followed it to the room I had been kept in, and when I opened the door, it was you on the table they were about to cut into. And instead of the doctors, it was Mr. Sinister and Siphon. I wanted to help you but the children got to me and swarmed me until everything went black... then I woke up."

She should feel embarrassed, she thinks, at this level of brutal honesty. There are some things you don't tell people. Maybe it's because he never responds. Maybe she's tired of keeping everything cooped up with Gambit not being around. Maybe it's her establishing a bond of trust, regardless if he reciprocates it.

She knows she would be burned, if it were anyone else. Had it been Gambit, he would've tattled to Logan like in Paris. If it had been Jubilee, she would've said _'Jesus X, and I thought I was the crazy one!'_ Had it been Logan, an uncomfortable silence would've ensued, followed by a   _'I'm sorry kid, I wish I could help.'_ then he'd excuse himself. If it were Finesse, she would've told her dreams are silly and meaningless and that Laura is worrying over nothing. And had it been Hellion or Cyclops or Angel, they would've backed out of the room slowly and ran away. Daken understands, and he'd never tell anyone, though she understands if he ever pulls himself from this funk she may never hear the end of it. But it'll still be just between the two of them. Like a sort of inside joke that's not so funny.

Her hand stops at his lower back.

"We will stop him Daken. He won't get away."

Her hand falls into her lap.

"That is all for now. I will let you rest."

She stands from the floor, once again wondering if what she's been doing reaches beyond herself.

~*~

"Daken?"

She knocks, the door opens, she steps in and hesitates.

The lights are on, a tv plays in the corner and Daken is standing outside the entrance to the bathroom, wearing only the bottom half of his Dark Avengers outfit and a towel draped over his shoulders.

"You... showered." She says dumbly.

"How observant." He remarks dryly before moving towards the small table by the tv and taking a seat.

"You are moving around."

"Wow Laura, nothing gets by you."

He must be feeling better if he's managing his usual quips.

"Have you eaten anything?" There. A sensible question. Not an obvious statement. That should appease him.

"Aside from the bullshit act everyone's been feeding me, no."

She wonders if she's part of the 'everyone', and if he just said that to try to regain whatever ground he believes he's lost in terms of pride.

"I haven't much of an appetite anyways."

"Maybe you should try." He looks thinner, she thinks, she doesn't remember seeing his ribs like that, his cheekbones look more pronounced than before, were his hipbones always that noticeable?

He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.

"Honestly Laura, this whole 'Mother Hen' thing just isn't you."

She easily brushes this off. Daken insults her whether he's in a good mood or not.

"I can see if we have crackers or something."

"If it'll get you to stop pestering me about it, then fine."

She decides to make a lunch out of it and returns a few minutes later with saltine crackers and some peanut butter, a snack Elixir frequently enjoyed during study breaks, and had turned Laura on to it. However, she only catches her mistake once she steps into the room.

"I brought... oh."

 She wonders then if perhaps Daken hasn't tried eating because he isn't sure _how_. Though she's certain he'll eventually learn to live with one arm, the first thing for him to eat probably shouldn't involve a spread.

"I-I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking."

She can feel her face heating beneath the sternness of his deadpan glare.

"Don't worry about it." He says, taking the box of crackers from her. She watches as he places it on the table and manages to open it with his single hand.

"Not that I think you can help yourself. I know how you X-Men get off on charity work."

She eyes him as she twists the cap off the peanut butter.

"If you don't want to feel like charity, then why don't you let Sabretooth or Mystique help you?"

"Is that what you think this is? I don't _need_ help, Laura dear. Two, I don't buy Victor's act for a second. Though it isn't like him to conjure up such a stunt, let alone pull it off... I know what he's doing now isn't _him_. As for Mystique... well I think that goes without saying."

So Daken trusts her. Or at the very least, he distrusts her less than the others. Counting it as a victory, she takes a bit of her snack. Daken watches with distaste.

"What makes you think I'd enjoy peanut butter, exactly?"

"I didn't. But I like it and I thought I would share it with you."

"Ah. Forcing your tastes and ideals upon others, like a true X-Man."

"It's not an X-Men thing. What's wrong with peanut butter?"

"It's just... so _American_."

"What's wrong with America?" She asks after taking another bite, spraying crumbs everywhere.

"Sorry." She says after swallowing.

"You have no idea."

That, she knows, is an insult. She decides to drop any further conversation and turns her attention to the television. It's an infomercial for a grill. She watches as the man talks too loudly, as if the volume of his voice is dependent upon the product's effectiveness. She watches all the bad acting, the bright bold colors declaring four easy payments od 19.99 and if they order now, they'll get an extra set of tools. The chair across from her creaks, a moment later she feels a tap against her shoulder. She turns to find Daken offering her a glass of water. Instead of reaching for it. she finds herself staring.

It isn't the remnants of his left arm that makes him look inferior, it's not the scared skin over his now empty eye socket either. It's the way he's slumped, the way his broad shoulders are curved, as if he's curling in towards himself, like he'd rather be on the couch in the dark with his back to the door and rest of the world. He has lost weight, she can see it now. Though he's not particularly tall, his toned figure and the way he'd carry himself made him imposing. A man with confidence, a man sure of himself and his abilities. A man who was certain he could obtain anything he set his mind to. The person in front of her however is the ghost of that man. A hollowed, empty shell of his former self. He looks as though the burdens of life are just too much to take, as if simply being up and around is unbearable. The hollows beneath his eyes are gray and his coloring is off. It's the she realizes that even though with how far he's come from the brink of death, he still has a lot of healing to do.

"Laura."

It's a warning.

"We could go somewhere. Anywhere."

He places the glass on the table with more force than necessary.

"No."

"There are different factions of X-Men, anyone of them should be willing to help us."

"No Laura."

"It doesn't have to be the X-Men! Or the Avengers! I know people. It could be the Fantastic Four. They know me."

"Dammit Laura, _**no**_!"

"Why not?"

"What the hell are any of them going to do?"

"Help."

"I told you, I don't need help!"

"Well you need something!" She says, standing from the table.

"I sure as hell don't need it from any of them!"

"But you think you'll find it by hunting down Mr. Sinister and SIphon? You don't have a healing factor Daken, you'll just get hurt!'

"What do you care?"

It stings, like a slap to the face.

"You may have no need for family Daken, you may be content to go in life without it, but I am not like that. I need you in my life Daken. Please. Don't do this. I've lost my mother, I've lost Logan. Please don't make me loose you too."

There's a strange sort of tension in the room, one Laura can't quite place. It's clear they're both upset, but it doesn't feel angry or disappointed like she's used to. It makes her think back to school, when the Cuckoos would get into arguments and Pixie would roll her eyes, elbow Laura in the ribs and say with a smile ' _Family, am I right?'_ AT the time, Laura never understood why anyone would spend so much time with people you constantly find yourself engaged in verbal combat with, but now she thinks she understands. It's a different kind of anger and frustration. One born out of caring for someone, and wanting what's best for them.

Daken, who's been pacing, stops and turns to face Laura.

Correct me if I'm wrong, as I've ben under a great deal of _stress_ lately and may be remembering it wrong, but I seem to recall me helping you as you went all around Madripoor while you were on your little Colcord witch hunt."

He... wants her to accompany him? They could go after Mr. Sinister and Siphon together. They could go pay a visit to Gambit, see how he's doing with the recent news of Logan's death, maybe try to get some info out of him. This isn't her first run-in with a Sinister after all.

"Okay. But first things first."

"What, pray tell, makes you think you're in charge?"

"You plan on using me as your human shield, I should get a say."

" 'A say' and 'in charge' are two very different things."

"I have a few visits to makes, pertaining to intel gathering."

"Oh goody, X-Men picnic, just what I love."

"Two..."

"Oh god."

"We're not leaving until you get your strength up."

He looks like he wants to argue, but he accepts it with a resigned sigh.

"Fine. But on one condition: we leave this carnival shitshow at the soonest time possible."

"Okay." A sentiment they share. Despite whatever the group's involvement with Logan, she's eager to leave them and this nightmare behind. Too many things have set off too many red flags. The quicker they leave, the better.

Daken returns to the table and they both take their seats.

"What have I just let you talk me into?"

She smiles at him, and though he doesn't return the gesture, he has the decency to look less grumpy. She feels a warmth blossom in her chest. This is it, this can really be a new beginning for the both of them. The one Logan has been preaching to her since day one.

"At the risk of jinxing us, I don't think things can get much worse for you from this point on."

"That's easy for you to say." He says, taking a cracker.


End file.
